Part 3 (2/2)

”Nothing is more natural and simple,” said Herr Wollnow; ”but that you should have kept the oath, and I know you have done so, is--as we children of Adam are now const.i.tuted--not quite so natural and simple.

But now, as the business matters are settled, we will, if agreeable to you, talk more comfortably over a gla.s.s of wine.”

Herr Wollnow opened the door of a s.p.a.cious apartment handsomely furnished as a half dining, half sitting room, and invited his guest to take a seat at the table, which was covered with a snow-white cloth, and furnished with all sorts of dainties served in valuable china, and several bottles of wine. As Gotthold sat down, his eyes wandered over several large and small oil paintings which were skilfuly arranged upon the walls.

”Pardon an artist's curiosity,” said he.

”I understand little or nothing of your beautiful art,” replied Herr Wollnow, as he fastened a napkin under his fat chin; ”but my wife is a great amateur, and, as she sometimes persuades herself, a connoisseur.

You must give her the pleasure of showing you her treasures. I am afraid the little collection will not find much favor in your eyes, with the exception of one picture, which I also consider a masterpiece, and which is greatly admired by all who see it.”

Gotthold would gladly have gone nearer to the paintings; one of them which hung at some little distance, seemed strangely familiar, but Herr Wollnow had already filled the green gla.s.ses with odorous Rhine wine, and a robust elderly woman came noisily in with a platter of freshly broiled fish in her red hands.

”Stine says that you were always particularly fond of flounders,” said Herr Wollnow, ”and so she would not give up the pleasure of offering you your favorite dish herself.”

Gotthold looked up at the stout figure, and instantly recognized good Stine Lachmund, who, during his boyhood, had almost kept the house at Dollan in the place of its invalid mistress, and after her death managed affairs entirely alone, yet had always maintained a good understanding with the boys and all the world, in spite of the many difficulties of her position.

He held out his hand to his old friend, who, after putting the platter on the table, and wiping her red fingers on her ap.r.o.n in a most unnecessary manner, grasped it eagerly.

”I was sure you would know me again,” said she, her fat face beaming with delight. ”But goodness gracious, how you have altered! What a handsome man you have grown! I should never have known you again!”

”So I used to be desperately ugly, Stine?” asked Gotthold, smiling.

”Why,” replied Stine, with a grave, questioning glance, ”you had handsome blue eyes, it is true; but they always looked so large and sorrowful that it made one feel badly, and then your little thin face was divided by a scar from there to there--it looked terribly; such a good boy, too, it was too outrageous--”

”All that has been forgotten long ago,” said Gotthold.

”And a big beard has grown over it,” added Stine.

”Yen can tell Line to bring in a bottle of the red seal,” said Herr Wollnow, who thought he perceived that his guest wished to cut short this recognition scene. ”You must pardon me,” he continued, turning to Gotthold, when Stine had gone out after again shaking hands, and the pretty young maid-servant, who moved noiselessly to and fro, began to wait upon the gentlemen, ”you must pardon me for being unable to spare you this little scene. The good woman was so delighted to hear of your coming, and a man who returns home must make up his mind to meet familiar faces at every step.”

”I have experienced that to-day,” replied Gotthold; ”your wife, too, you said--”

”Is proud of having known you when you were not a famous artist, but a diffident boy about thirteen years old, who obstinately refused to take part in a dance which some aristocratic mammas had arranged with difficulty, and then joined it when he heard that no one else would dance with little Ottilie Blaustein. She has never forgotten your magnanimity.”

”And she--Fraulein Ottilie--”

”Has been my wife for six years,” said Herr Wollnow. ”You look at me with discreet astonishment; you have quickly calculated that the little dancer of those days cannot now be much more than twenty-five, and you set me down very correctly at some years over fifty--we will say fifty-six. But we Jews--”

”Are you a Jew?” asked Gotthold.

”Of the purest descent,” replied Herr Wollnow; ”didn't you perceive that, when I locked your money up in my desk so quickly just now? Of the purest Polish descent, although out of love for my wife, who declared that she had suffered enough from Judaism, and also from business motives, I have taken the step, a very easy one for me, from one positive religion which was indifferent to me, to another that was no less so. But I was going to say that we Jews, or we men who are educated in the Jewish faith, are as unromantic in regard to marriage as everything else, but we keep to the law; I mean by that the law of nature, which is not at all romantic, but very sober, and consequently all the more logical.”

”Then you think that a great difference between the ages of the husband and wife is one of the laws of nature which should be strictly observed?”

”By no means, only that under certain circ.u.mstances it is no impediment.”

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